Books, Bookings and Blondes
by SCWLC
Summary: Okay, this is actually a Buffy and Angel crossover but since I'm living in denial about them being on separate shows... Anyway, this is an alternate season 6 and beyond. It's definitely fluffy.
1. The Idea

Title: Books, Bookings and Blondes  
Author: SCWLC  
Rating: Around PG-13, I think. Some innuendo and bad words.  
Summary: This is my rewrite of S6 that turned into an AU immediate future fiction.   
Pairings: Yes, I actually have something here other than B/A. It's Spike/Darla. Don't kill me.  
Notes: Okay, first of all, to those who wanted to know from my last essay, I have a paper due in a week and a half on stained glass. Now you know. On this story, I would like to say that I made up the station in Indiana. I don't know if there is a KWBL out there, I just was making up the station. Second, I know I'm writing Spike a lot nicer than he is in reality but I wanted to have a happy story. So, to keep the angst to a minimum I wrote him as a really nice guy. Next, I was also making up the numbers for the money Buffy got paid for her story and books. I realise things are different in the real world, but I refuse to research a pastime to avoid insulting real authors.  
  
Thanks to everyone for your feedback. You're the people who make failing Medieval Architecture worth it.  
  
*********************  
  
Prologue  
  
Darla was feeling desperate. Her baby boy was going to die because she was a vampire and some stupid primal power was keeping them from giving her a caesarean. She looked around at Angel and his little band of friends as they stared back at her helplessly.  
  
Suddenly Fred frowned slightly and asked Darla, "When you were tryin' to get the baby out before ... Y'know, when you found out that you couldn't hurt him, what exactly did you do?"  
  
Darla glared at the girl and spat, "I was just trying to get him out! Okay!? I stabbed myself in the gut, I tried just cutting myself open, and nothing worked!" Despite the furious words the vampiress' face crumpled and she sobbed, "He's going to die-"  
  
"Maybe not," said Fred.  
  
Wesley looked at the young woman he had a crush on and asked, "Fred, there's no way Darla can manage a proper labour to give birth, and if we can't..." he trailed off, unsure of the way to express the grim notion.  
  
Cordelia had no such compunction, "We can't cut her open Fred!" she said vehemently, "She said she tried it herself. I don't think we'll have any more luck."  
  
"Maybe not if we try to do it the way she did." Fred had a sly look on her face, "But Darla said she never tried to actually do it to save the baby's life. Maybe if we do a proper C-section-"  
  
Angel looked up with dawning hope, "The Powers are protecting the baby. If we go about this to save him rather than harm him, we might be able to save his life!"  
  
At his words, the others perked up and began to sterilise the room, and put together the necessary implements to operate on Darla. Two hours later she and Angel were cooing at their son, and making all sorts of ridiculous facial expressions that new parents make at their children. Gunn had passed out in the grand tradition of the unprepared viewer of a live birth, while Wesley and Fred were looking inordinately pleased with themselves. Cordelia was being practical and shopping for necessities such as blankets, baby formula, baby clothes, and that necessity above all necessities, disposable diapers.  
  
*************  
  
Out in Sunnydale, a slayer struggled with her resurrection, bills, and confused feelings for a blonde vampire who seemed to be the only person around to realise that she was hanging by a thread.  
  
*************  
  
Part One  
  
  
It was a lovely day in Sunnydale, the sun was shining, the trees were chirping as they fluttered from place to place, while the birds' feathers shivered in the slight breeze. It was also a typical day in Sunnydale.  
  
Willow and Tara were involved in trying to correct the work of a warlock who's plan of world domination using an army of trees and shrubs had been seriously compromised by a starling fluttering into the middle of his spell. Now there were a couple of normally potted plants hopping around the magic shop leaving a trail of dirt, and Dawn was defending the rights of an adorable little geranium to exist as a motile creature. Xander and Anya were preoccupied with frantic attempts to capture the other plants before they covered everything with mud.  
  
The only two people uninvolved with the plant crisis were Spike and Buffy. Spike, because he had more sense than to hang around a bunch of chirping bonsai trees, and Buffy because she was trying to find a way to pay for both the water and food, without going into debt. It was so riveting she didn't hear the chaos going on around her.  
  
"Tara! You can't turn her back into a regular flower, she'll be so sad," Dawn held the trembling plant under the witch's nose, then pulled it against her chest and petted it, "Isn't she just the most adorable wittle planty, yes she is!" Dawn cooed to the cheeping geranium.  
  
Okay, so Buffy wasn't completely unaware of her surroundings, ( "Xander! It's in the cash register! Don't let it damage the money!" cried Anya), but she was determined to find a solution to her fiscal problems, and that meant concentrating on monetary flow, not on the really big bush hopping up and down in front of the window that some nutcase had attached a leash and doggie sweater to.   
  
At that moment, Buffy decided that perhaps it might be less . . . insane elsewhere. "Guys, I'm heading home so I can work on this money thing," she said.  
  
"Are you sure -- Anya! Go left, there's a spider plant over your head! -- Are you sure you don't want to stay -- Bad bush! -- stay here?" Xander inquired.  
  
Buffy smiled at the sight of the spider plant trying to fly out the window, and having all the success a wingless plant could have, and replied, "I think I'll probably get more done at home than here."  
  
So she said her goodbyes and left. Walking down the street, Buffy could see all sorts of interesting things. The palm trees hopping up and down in a vain attempt to fly away, Mrs. O'Neal hollering as she chased her prized gardenias down past the hardware store, and several escaped emus from the local zoo standing stock still with glazed looks on their faces as worried zoo staff tried to get them to dislodge their feet from the dirt.  
  
Buffy got home, just barely managing to avoid being crushed by a loudly chirping, hopping, out-of-control oak tree on the front lawn. "The bigger they are, the smaller they think they are," sighed Buffy as she entered the house.  
  
At the slight scent of singed hair and leather the Slayer looked up to see Spike leaning against the wall in the living room. "What are you doing here?" she asked tiredly.  
  
"The ivy on my crypt wall was startin' to act funny so I hightailed it out here. You don't have any plants in your house do you?" he responded.  
  
Buffy chuckled slightly, saying, "No, although Dawn may soon be bringing home a cheeping geranium. I hope she takes better care of it than all the plants I've managed to kill."  
  
"Well then until the plants get fixed can I sleep in your basement?" the expression on his face was so hangdog and desperate Buffy didn't have the heart to throw him out.  
  
"Okay, but if I catch you telling Dawn any more stories about the days of blood guts and gore, you're out in the street. Got it?" Spike just nodded and hurried down the stairs, leaving Buffy to work on her bills in peace. Accompanied by the crashing sounds of potted plants leaping to their doom.  
  
She sat down at the table and started into her budget to find things she could cut so they would still have electricity as well as the enormous luxury of food. Shuffling the bills between those that needed to be paid immediately, those that could wait, and the other expenses she garnered like the fact that she needed some new cords for her crossbow, and Dawn had a science fair coming up which usually required obscene amounts of money spent on pipe cleaners.  
  
Buffy had just finished working the budget out to her satisfaction, albeit not Dawn's, when she noticed it. It being the magazine with a huge cover ad in yellow, black, red, and green. It practically vibrated on the cover advertising a chance to be a published author and win $1,500. Naturally the money caught Buffy's eye and she flipped through the magazine until she found the details of the contest. All one had to do to enter was write a science fiction or fantasy story, fill out the form and mail the package in. First prize was a huge wad of cash and being published, second and third were smaller wads of cash and being published.  
  
Dawn and the others came home then. "Buffy! What do you think of Gerry as a name for my plant?" Dawn demanded, "Tara says she knows how to exclude her from the reversal spell."  
  
"You mean aside from the fact that I'll be thinking of that Spice girl every time we talk about it?" Buffy replied.  
  
Xander and Anya had followed Buffy's younger sister in and were carrying bags of takeout Chinese food. "Hey everybody! We come bearing tribute!" called Xander.  
  
"Did you bring blood?" Spike demanded, "If I'm not allowed to sleep, which is my right as a nocturnal creature, you could at least get me some food too." He came tramping irritably up the stairs.  
  
Anya looked over at Buffy, "You know, although Spike is hot I don't see why you don't kill him." At that Spike looked quite baffled as to whether he ought to be affronted or complimented. "You are the Slayer, why don't you kill him?"  
  
"More to the point, why is he here?" asked Xander.  
  
"The ivy was freaking him out." Buffy responded shortly. "I haven't killed Spike because killing something helpless is wrong."  
  
Dawn marched up to the vampire in question and linked her arm with his, saying, "Well, I like him, and I think we still have some blood in the fridge," she directed the latter comment to Spike, and the two proceeded to the kitchen. They were followed by the three young adults who sat down to a nice family dinner of takeout. Through the whole conversation they had covering Dawn's grades which were slowly on the rise again, Xander and Anya's wedding, and Spike's insistence at trying chicken fried rice in his blood which even grossed Dawn out, Buffy couldn't get her mind off of the $1,500.  
  
So after dinner she hurried upstairs, took out one of her old diaries and sat down at the computer. Five hours after writing, *Kitty had just spent what was arguably the most boring day of her life in school and now stood on the front steps waiting for Andrew to join her so she could make the quarterback beg to take her to the dance.* Buffy had finished writing about the day she was called.  
  
She slipped it into the envelope with the entry form, and ducked briefly outside and down the block where people were busy rerooting their trees to drop it into the mailbox. After all, what did she have to lose?  
  
***************************  
  
Spike's evening was not nearly as calm. After sunset he left the Summers' residence and hit Willy's bar. There he heard a rumour so bizarre he had to go to LA to find out specifically what events had (clearly) gotten mangled in the telling. He illegally parked his Cadillac in front of the hotel where Angel had set up his office and waltzed in to find out what exactly the poufter had been doing this time.  
  
Amazingly, the demon who knew a guy hadn't gotten things totally wrong. His grandsire stood in the atrium cooing at a small smelly bundle in his arms. "Oooo, isn't he just a wet wittle baby aren't you Connor?"  
  
Spike shook himself as he lurked in the doorway. The sight of Angelus the Scourge of Europe baby talking was enough to give him chills. Of course, at least the baby wasn't Angel's. Vampires were sterile and Angel couldn't have adopted the tyke. He'd probably taken on some chick with a baby as a case.  
  
"Daddy's gonna have to change your diaper," said Angel speaking in the variable tones of a new parent. He also had just shattered Spike's little happy illusion. God! What the hell was going on in this heathenish hole?  
  
Then Darla come in and destroyed the last of Spike's composure. She baby talked to the brat as well, and started feeding him, "Oh Connor, you're gonna be a big strong boy just like your daddy, and Mommy and Daddy love you very much! Yes we do!"  
  
"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS GOING ON IN HERE!?!?" Spike was too stunned to be cautious. This broke all the bounds and rules of logic, nature, and the supernatural. This set the baby off crying, and Angel stepped forward as though to protect the baby from Spike.  
  
"Spike," he said, his voice menacing.  
  
"Angel," was his reply. This was followed immediately thereafter with, "Since when are you and Darla so snuggly? Also, please tell me the demon was wrong and the baby is adopted or something." Spike pleaded with his grandsire not to tell him the truth.  
  
Instead of answering any questions at all Angel growled and demanded, "Which demon told you this?"  
  
He shrugged, "Belviac out at Willy's. Said you got Darla preggers, and the two of you were plannin' on keepin' the tyke." The curiosity got the better of him, "So what is he? I mean the child of a couple of vampires has got to be something."  
  
"He's human. Completely human." Darla had faded into the background as the two talked. Having ascertained that Angel did not consider Spike a threat, she now stepped forward carrying her son and showing him to the chipped vampire.  
  
Spike's eyes widened, "So, Angel here I get bein' all lovey and crap. What about you? You don't have a soul the last time I checked."  
  
She shrugged, "Somehow, being pregnant with Connor, I got sort of infected by his soul. I do have one."   
  
Then Spike did something that took the other two aback. He laughed. Just breaking down into complete hysterics, the bleach blonde vampire staggered, howling with laughter, over to a chair and just flopped down. Angel and Darla looked at Spike both wearing expressions that clearly said, *I just knew he was unstable, must be all that time with Drusilla.* "Uh, Spike," Angel said hesitantly. Darla was already edging away with the baby in case Spike lost it and tried to attack them. "Spike," he said a little more firmly, "What is so funny?"  
  
"Us!" came the reply, "Darla, favoured childe of the Master and the Scourge of Europe have souls, and I've got this bleedin' chip in my head that keeps me from killin' humans. Think we should start a club?"  
  
Darla giggled slightly as she realised that Spike was not only not planning on hurting her son, he was not able to hurt the boy. Then began to really laugh as the meaning of his words reached her. Angel just looked flummoxed. "I really don't see what the two of you find so funny."  
  
"Don't you get it?" Darla handed their son over to him, "Us! Three of the most feared vampires in history, and we've all become unable to kill. We're practically the good guys." She looked over at Angel with a raised eyebrow and said, "You especially."  
  
Angel just shook his head and carried his son away from the two lunatics who spent so long talking that night that Spike was trapped there for the day and wound up staying to help Angel and Darla fight off a batch of marauding Fyarl demons hired to kidnap Connor.  
  
As Spike prepared to leave at sunset that evening Darla approached him, carrying Connor, "So you're leaving?" she asked.  
  
"Yeah. Got myself a nice little crypt in Sunnyhell. 'Side's the Slayer's sister'll want to hear some more blood and guts stories when Buffy's not lookin'." Spike smiled at Darla and thought about how sweet she was when she wasn't saying he was an incompetent.  
  
She smiled back saying, "I was just thinking. You're welcome back any time. It's nice having someone who understands aside from Angel around." Darla considered what a nice guy Spike was, and really had always been. At least from a vampire perspective anyway. And it was nice talking to someone who got what being a vampire was about without either the gloom and doom of Angel, or the 'treacherous bitch' talks she got from most other vampires these days.  
  
"Bye Darla," he said.  
  
"Goodbye." As Spike drove off in the glow of the streetlights Darla looked down at her son. "My boy," she said softly, reliving the moment she'd realised she would get to see her son grow up, "What do you think of Spike?"  
  
**********************  
  
Weeks had passed and Buffy had, for the most part, forgotten about her entry to the contest. After all, there were more important things to deal with, like explaining to Anya that no one was going to be wearing larvae to her wedding, and getting the social services people to realise that sometimes you have a bad day.  
  
So, it was a pleasant surprise after Buffy had discovered that she needed $500 for various bills and down payments that month, she was almost out of free cash for food, and Dawn had spent her lunch money for the month on new earrings, that she had won the contest. A copy of the magazine and a $1,500 cheque were in her mailbox along with the rest of the mail.   
  
Buffy ignored everything and rushed off to the bank to deposit the cheque so that she could pay off all of her bills at one go while she had the money, and to take some of the rest of the cash to pay for all her groceries for the week, and a chocolate cake to celebrate.  
  
When she got home, she finished sorting out the mail and carried hers up to her room, and sat down to make dinner for all. She was somewhat hurt when no one noticed the miraculous appearance of luxuries on the table, and instead focussed on Dawn's day with her cheeping plant.  
  
". . . So anyways, Leslie said that she had seen something like this on a special on the Amazon rainforest, and Mrs. Jensen totally wanted to take her petals. Anyway, I was like, 'No!' I mean God! Doesn't she have any feelings for other living creatures?" Dawn would have continued with her saga of the plant when Willow interrupted desperate to have Buffy's opinion.  
  
"Do you think that maybe if I had little wormy designs put on the bridesmaid dresses Anya might actually let us wear clothes instead of larvae?"  
  
Buffy was about to answer when a huge red thing covered in slime burst through the door with Spike in hot pursuit. As they fought it off Buffy thought, *There goes the rest of my cheque,* and winced as the carpet got ripped and covered in slime, thus ensuring the need for a new carpet.  
  
The demon took off out the back door and Buffy was forced to go after it and Spike. "What does it want?" she asked as she caught up with her sometime patrolling partner.  
  
"Near as I can tell, it's been eatin' the guys down at the Mason's lodge." Spike said as they followed the thing down Sunnydale's side streets. "I think that dip of a conjuror what works for the medieval society hired him to take 'em out."  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes. The feud between the two was ongoing and even Sunnydale's more oblivious citizenry had noticed and been irritated by the two. The medievalists insisted that the Masons were moronic for believing the Mason tradition went as far back as it did, and the Masons were insulted by the lack of belief from the medievalists. Both sides had connections to the occult and about a quarter of the demons raised in Sunnydale could be attributed to the overactive stupidity of both groups.  
  
The demon had actually been raised by neither, but by a beginning warlock who had been manipulated by a mischief demon that saw the opportunity to institute widespread chaos. By the time the mess was cleared up it was one in the morning and Buffy showered and crawled into bed without going through the rest of her mail figuring it would still be there in the morning, and she was too tired to go into it then.  
  
So it wasn't until the next morning that Buffy got to see her short story in print, and read the other letter that had come accompanying the magazine. She read the letter twice before the meaning sank in. Then she read it once more to be certain it wasn't a dream.  
  
Dear Miss Summers,  
  
We here at Mitchell Publishing have read your story and wish to place it in an anthology of fantasy fiction. The story will be published only with your permission and a percentage of the profits would be sent to you for your work.   
  
This is not, however, the primary reason we have contacted you. After reading your story we wish to know whether you would be interested in writing a full length novel about your "Kitty" character. We believe that, should you agree, the novel would be quite profitable.  
  
There would be a certain amount sent in advance of $500.00, and a payment of $2,000.00 on the completion of the work. You would also receive 8% of the profits from the sales of the book.  
  
If you wish to accept these terms, please respond within the month by sending a letter to the enclosed address. Should you accept, you will be sent the contact to sign, and as soon as it is received your cheque will be in the mail. We will expect to see the novel completed within the year.  
  
Sincerely,  
  
Jeffrey P. Turner  
  
"Well," said Buffy, "Who am I to look a gift horse in the mouth?"  
  
**********************  
  
Angel crept quietly into the atrium of the hotel, grateful that Spike and Darla weren't around. He was getting tired of seeing the vampire who claimed to live in Sunnydale constantly underfoot in his hotel in LA. The fact that he and Darla were well nigh inseparable just made the whole situation even more irritating. In fact, the only good thing about Spike's presence was that it kept Cordelia from flirting with him, and the others from implying that the two had some sort of mystical bond.  
  
*Which, now that I think of it, is a good reason to keep him around.* The other issue was a little more distressing. Darla and Spike had never gotten along. She had always thought him to be a complete sap and something of an imbecile as well. Spike had only respected her because he knew that Angelus would turn him into a bloody pulp if he ever tried anything on Darla. So this sudden friendship had Angel baffled.  
  
Darla had actually let Spike hold their baby the other day. Spike had been holding Connor making Angel completely petrified for his son. Darla had smacked Angel, reminding him that Spike could not hurt the baby deliberately and that he had vampiric speed, reflexes and balance. He was unlikely to drop the boy by accident. That had not comforted Angel in the slightest.  
  
Nor had her sighed comment that Spike was so good with the baby, and Connor really loved him helped at all. "He's a vicious killer!" he had responded.  
  
"He's sweet." Darla's reply was firm.  
  
Spike had chosen that moment to enter the conversation, "Oh! Anything but sweet luv," he said in mock hurt, "No man wants to be told he's sweet. That means you don't think of us as material for a beau." He had grinned at Darla who fluttered her eyelashes coquettishly at him.  
  
"Who said I was looking for a beau?" she'd purred. Angel could have sworn the two had been flirting. It was ridiculous of course. Spike wasn't Darla's type, and neither was Darla Spike's.   
  
In any event, Angel had the hotel to himself for the time being, and he was going to play with Connor and enjoy the time alone with his son. His human employees had gone out to catch a movie, Lorne was busy rebuilding Caritas, and Darla and Spike had left earlier saying something about checking out the sewer routes between the hotel and places Angel might wish to get to during the day.   
  
They had been rather unspecific about their destinations, but Angel had merely let them go off. He had learned long ago better than to try to convince Darla not to do something.   
  
He had just settled down with Connor when he heard giggling coming from Wesley's office. He went to investigate and saw something that threw him. Spike and Darla were kissing. Not just any kisses either. The hot openmouthed kind that usually went somewhere, and as Angel watched, Spike took off his everpresent duster and spread it on the floor. He and Darla sank down to the floor, and Angel scurried off before his son was introduced to an activity that was rated a little too high for his tender years.   
  
After all, it wasn't like he and Darla were involved. They were just raising Connor together because he needed two parents. Also, as the only two ensouled vampires in the world they shared the bond of being the only people who understood what that really meant. So he didn't have a problem if she decided to have hot monkey sex with someone who wasn't him.  
  
It was just that it was Spike! Spike was the guy she had called a blithering idiot the day she first met him, and she hadn't changed her opinion. Well, not until now anyhow. He now also had to admit that they must have been flirting that day, as much as the notion galled him.   
  
*Ah well. She's an adult and is entitled to make her own choices.*  
  
But still... Spike!  
  
**********************  
  
When Spike got over to Buffy's that evening he found the floor littered with diaries in Buffy's handwriting. Buffy herself was sitting in the living room with a laptop computer and a pile of paper which she shuffled through rapidly, cursing with a vocabulary to make a longshoreman proud.  
  
"Hello Slayer," Spike decided to ignore the mess in favour of giving his message to Buffy, "I just dropped by to tell you I've found myself a girlfriend and I'm not attracted to you like that anymore."  
  
She looked up at him, frowned, and said, "So you came here to tell me that you're not attracted to me?"  
  
He suddenly realised how he had sounded and said hurriedly, "I didn't mean I don't like you anymore Slayer, and you are an attractive woman, but I've found myself a girlfriend and I thought you would want to know I won't be chasin' after you any more."  
  
Buffy smiled in response to his hasty backtracking saying, "I'm glad you're going to stop trying to get me to go out with you." She sighed and turned back to the books she was writing. On the whole it was going well, but Buffy wanted to have some scenes about the bad guys planning and stuff. She wasn't a villain and she'd never plotted the downfall of a slayer.  
  
"What are you writin' pet?" Spike asked curiously.  
  
Buffy looked over at him and sighed again. "Nothing important Spike," she replied, "If you want to talk to Dawn she's upstairs."  
  
Spike turned to leave, but was stopped by Buffy's question, "Spike, do you know anything about Lothos?"  
  
He blinked at her, puzzled, then hesitantly responded, "Ummm, you killed him, right?"  
  
"Yeah," she smiled, "But I was curious what you know. Y'know, like stuff I wouldn't. Bad guy in his lair kinda stuff."  
  
The vampire shrugged and began to move off when he lunged at her and snatched the laptop off her lap and started to read, "'So Kaspar told his minions to find the Huntress and bring her to him. "Tonight, you will be mine, Kitty," he said.' What the hell is this?" He read a little more even as he played keep-away with Buffy, "This is like an autobiography or something!"  
  
Buffy gave up and flopped onto the sofa, "I had this amazing piece of luck and somehow I got a book deal," her face was chagrined, "I thought this would be easy 'cause all I have to do is write my memoirs with the names changed. All of a sudden I realised I have to write the bad guys too."  
  
Sudden enlightenment crossed Spike's face, "So you were tryin' to pump me for information on what goes on in a master vampire's lair."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
He grinned at her, "Of course I'll help. Just give me some credit in the writin' and a cut of the profits and I'll tell you everything I know."  
  
"Well then, I'll work out the details of the money with you when I find out how much I get, but you'll get at least $50, okay?" Buffy was handed back her laptop and they settled in to write a real sounding Lothos.  
  
Spike, it turned out had actually spent some time with him back in the day, and had even gotten an up close chance to observe how the vampire ran his little HQ. "Formality was a big thing. There were rituals for everything. Feeding, bathing, talking. It was like a bleedin' Japanese court."  
  
"So, I have to have a lot of doing obeisance then, and a lot of that hack formal language stuff?" Buffy looked at the vampire who, it turned out, had a real gift for writing prose. When Buffy had complemented his writing style he had been surprised and had admitted to the ridicule of his poetry that had driven him into Drusilla's clutches.   
  
Buffy just rolled her eyes saying, "Just because you can't write poetry doesn't mean you can't write. I knew this guy once, couldn't sing at all, but he wrote the most amazing music."  
  
Spike looked at her hopefully, "You really think I'm good at this?"  
  
"Totally."  
  
That evening, a writing partnership was born. 


	2. Grown-Up

Part 2  
  
Roger and Trish Burkle were happily adoring Darla and Angel's son. "He's just so adorable!" squealed Fred's mother as she played with the baby. Angel was trailing anxiously around after the couple as they played aeroplane with his child.  
  
"Angel, stop that!" Darla smacked him on the arm as he hovered over the Burkles again.  
  
He gave her a wounded look, "I don't want him to get hurt. Can't you see how careless they're being?"  
  
Darla simply rolled her eyes, "Angel. They. Raised. Fred. Look how she turned out. Do you really think they'll damage our son?" Suddenly she bit her lip and glanced away from him.  
  
"What is it?" Angel stepped forward and leaned down to look her in the eye.  
  
She gave a soft, bitter, snort of laughter and blinked away sudden tears, "It's just that he's probably safer with them than with me. His mother. What do I know about babies anyway? Other than how to kill them?" Darla began to fold in on herself.  
  
"Hey," Roger broke in, "First of all, you seem to be doing real well with him." He smiled encouragingly, "Also, when Trish and I first brought Fred home, I was absolutely terrified I'd drop her, or hurt her, or something." He wrapped an arm around Darla and gently squeezed for emphasis. "All parent are scared to death they're gonna screw up. You're no different."  
  
And Angel had decided to join the self-pity trip, "Anyway, if anyone's going to be a bad parent it'll be me. Look at my father. I'll probably turn out just like him."  
  
Cordelia had entered as he spoke. On hearing that statement she walked up to him and thwapped him upside the head. "What did I tell you about stupid self-pity?" she demanded.  
  
Angel moved with alacrity to put Darla between him and his seer, "Not to have them around you so I don't get hurt by lunatic women with visions?"  
  
Darla and Cordelia had reached an unstable truce over the months, but not so stable that either wanted to confront the other, "Don't get me in the middle of your fights Angel," she warned as she moved aside to allow Cordelia full access to a now mock-cowering Angel. "Now give me back my son," she demanded of the Burkles, who forked him over with only a token protest.  
  
The couple, having fulfilled their obligations as people meeting the vampires' son sat down to talk with Cordelia about Fred and Gunn. Of course it was mainly along the lines of, "Are you sure that he's good for her? I mean, not to insult your friend, it's just that we don't want Fred hurt."  
  
Wesley arrived, and the talk quickly turned to the latest cases. Darla was pissed off at Angel for not allowing her to join him when he went out fighting. "Honestly, it's the most chauvinistic thing I ever heard! I'm a perfectly good fighter, and Lorne does a way better job of babysitting Connor while he waits for you to come back covered in slime."  
  
Angel glared at her, "I don't want to run the risk of leaving Connor motherless too," he said, "He needs to have at least one parent there to take care of him."  
  
"Then why don't we take turns? Angel, I'm getting bored stuck in this hotel of yours all day." The others wisely stayed silent.  
  
Which was when Spike cheerfully made his way into the hotel lobby carrying flowers, a jar of blood, a package of Weetabix, and a bag of what seemed to be clothing. "Hello all!" he said exuberantly. He made his way to Darla's side and handed her the flowers saying, "For the loveliest lady here."  
  
Darla smiled and looked like she would have blushed if she had the circulation to do so. She shifted Connor over to his father and smelled the flowers her smile brightening as she got a good look at them. "Lilies! Oh Spike, you remembered!"  
  
He shrugged and flopped down next to her, "Eh, you're easy compared to Dru. Her I could never get flowers 'cause she'd always bring up the time Angelus got her a whole garden." He shot Angel an annoyed look, "Also, I didn't have to. You always dropped hints at him," he jerked his head in his grandsire's direction, "To get you lilies. He never obliged."  
  
Darla leaned over and kissed Spike, "Well it's still sweet that you remembered."  
  
"Hey!" Cordelia demanded, "How come she's getting flowers and no one else?"  
  
The bleach blonde shot her a dark look. "When you and I are dating, which I hope to God never happens, I'll get you flowers."  
  
Her eyes widened, "You guys are dating?"  
  
"Well, I wouldn't call what they did in Wesley's office dating per se," Angel muttered softly enough that only the other two vampires heard him.  
  
Trish looked somewhat surprised, "So you two," she gestured at Angel and Darla, "Aren't together?"  
  
Darla's brief glare at Angel left him unrepentant, and she answered the question, "No, not anymore. We used to be, but we're just not a compatible couple."  
  
"But you and Spike are?" Wesley asked, looking rather flummoxed.  
  
Just then Gunn and Fred returned from their date, and the conversation was sidetracked off of Spike and Darla's relationship and onto the other couple's. The change was facilitated by the dating vampires' choice to sneak off to Darla's room so they could have some privacy.   
  
**********************  
  
Buffy finished off the last of her and Spike's manuscript and stuffed it and its cover letter into an envelope and started to search for stamps singing the song of the stamp hunter as it has been sung for years, "Stamp stamp stamp stamp stamp stamp stamp stamp stamp stamp stamp stamp stamp. Staaa-aaamp Staaa-aaamp Staaa-aaamp stamp stamp stamp stamp!"  
  
With the big finale when she flushed them from the drawer they had taken refuge in, "STAMP!"  
  
She rapidly affixed the irritating pieces of gluey paper to her manila envelope and trotted down the street to the mail box. Hopefully the rest of her money would arrive soon. She needed more cash for the broken fixtures. Again. Not to mention paying back various stores for the things Dawn had stolen. All in all she had to wonder why it was the universe was conspiring against her to make her have to pay for all the things she could theoretically spend money on.  
  
She made her way home and asked the Powers what she had done. Buffy was certain that, whatever things she had done that could garner punishment, she had already been punished for them. It just wasn't fair that she had to have the weight of the world on her shoulders and all the other stuff people had to deal with too.  
  
When she got home Dawn was in the process of hiding a notice of parent teacher in between the seat cushions so she could claim she forgot it when Buffy found out the day after when Dawn's principal called. Buffy didn't call her on it figuring that she'd dig it out after Dawn had gone to bed.  
  
So Buffy waited until Dawn had finished with her efforts then walked in with a weary "Hey."  
  
"Oh! Hey! How is everything? I mean, the whole hunt for Warren and his buddies thing. By the way, there's a special on TV on penguins. I thought we could watch it. Together?" Dawn's desperate sounding babbling had Buffy smiling tiredly as she shooed her sister toward the television.  
  
"Sure Dawn. I'll make some popcorn. You get settled. You finished all your homework?" The Slayer queried her sister.  
  
"Yup!" came the cheery reply.  
  
Buffy got back in time to see the opening credits. The two watched the black and white birds waddle about while the announcer made comments of a serious nature about the various adorable things the penguins did. Willow joined them halfway through and the girls enjoyed a peaceful evening until Xander called to tell them Anya was being held prisoner by a large puce demon who wanted forty bucks and for Buffy to provide him with an unlimited source of vampire dust so he could suck the world into Hell. His name was Ornuylianhovdufhasoirnafijther. Arthur for short.  
  
************************  
  
Angel sat in his room with Connor and tried to block out the enthusiastic sounds coming from both Fred's end of the hall and Darla's. He wondered what Buffy would think if he asked her there to distract him from the noise coming from both directions.  
  
************************  
  
Arthur, it turned out, was an even worse fighter than he was bargainer and Anya was rescued and Arthur decapitated. Thus the evening was concluded with showers all around because the demon had turned into slime and exploded as though propelled by dynamite. Dawn was hustled off to bed and Buffy and Willow crawled into theirs both trying to forget the squoosh the demon had made when he landed on the Scoobies. It was enough to give a gal nightmares. Buffy wondered what Angel would think if she asked him there to distract her from the icky noise coming from the depths of her mind.  
  
*SQUOOSSSHHH* "Stop it!"  
  
**************************  
  
Spike enjoyed the life he was living now. He had a wonderful girlfriend, got to needle Angel nearly constantly, and had been accepted by the A-Team as one of their own. Not to mention the possible amounts of money he was going to get from Buffy should their book become a success.  
  
He had been left to babysit Connor while the others went to beat up some lawyers. Or maybe it was a vampire hunter. The details were way too complicated for him, and all he knew was that since he was useless for the mission, and Lorne was unavailable for babysitting, he had been left alone with the now four month old Connor.  
  
"So kid," he said, unsure of how to address someone who didn't even speak yet, "You want uncle Spike to teach ya how to play poker?"  
  
The baby smiled in response, and Spike could smell that Connor's diaper needed changing. That just opened a whole can of worms better left alone. Unfortunately for Spike, he couldn't leave it alone. So several minutes later Spike was grimly trying to get the kid to lie still so he could get him cleaned up and changed. Things were not improved when Spike turned around only to feel something wet land on the back of his shirt. "I wonder why no one drowns all the boys at birth," he muttered as he struggled with the plastic tabs.  
  
The others came back carrying a faint whiff of blood one hour later. Spike, who hadn't brought a change of clothing, was grumbling to himself as he waited for his shirt to finish drying. Darla immediately trotted up to her lover and kissed him. "What was that for?" he asked, "No wait. Don't tell me," he grabbed her and kissed her longer and harder.  
  
It was the catcalls that finally brought the two out of their self-induced haze. When Spike and Darla turned around Gunn and Fred were grinning, Wesley was stoically English, Cordelia looked envious while looking hard at the shirtless Spike, and Angel was glowering at the couple.  
  
"What?" asked Darla. She made a beeline then for Connor's crib and began to giggle helplessly at the state her son was in.  
  
Spike just growled at her amusement. When he turned and grumped off to the other side of the lobby the others went over to investigate what had happened. Connor was fine. In fact, he was enjoying himself immensely, despite having his diaper wrapped around with duct tape. The shiny grey tape formed a band around the boy's middle. "Have some trouble with the diaper?" Gunn asked, shaking with suppressed laughter.  
  
"Oh shut up."  
  
Angel looked from his son, to the people around him, to Spike, and back again. He headed over to the blonde while the others figured out how to get the pampers off the boy. "I usually have one of the others do his diaper for me," he said, "The first time I tried to do them myself Darla came in, took one look at me, and shoved me over to do them with far too much ease for my peace of mind."  
  
Spike snorted, "It's probably a woman thing," he retorted.  
  
"No, 'cause Gunn, Wesley and Lorne have no trouble with the diapers at all." Angel took a deep breath to steady himself then said, "Look, I'm sorry I've been giving you and Darla a hard time about your relationship. Besides, if Buffy trusts you around her sister and friends, I can trust you around Connor and Darla."  
  
"S'okay, I nearly killed you a couple times anyway." Spike grinned at Angel and waited for the response he knew he'd get.  
  
"Same here, whelp. I still haven't forgotten you got us trapped in a Yorkshire mineshaft with that loony act of yours." In an abrupt subject change Angel asked, "What the hell happened to you shirt, by the way?"  
  
"Your son decided I needed to be anointed," responded the vampire irritably.  
  
"Hunh," said Angel, "You know, I was thinking it might be nice to spar with someone who'll put up an actual challenge. You game?"  
  
A wicked smirk settled on Spike's face, "To kick your ass? Always."  
  
**********************  
  
Three months later Buffy received her cheque for $2,000 as well as a second cheque for her percentage on the anthology her story had been included in. That was about $850. The sudden influx of money caught the burgeoning author by surprise and Buffy found herself staring blankly at the money before remembering that she didn't want the others finding out. She didn't know what their responses would be but, whether her friends pleaded with her to write more about them or whether they were horrified by her selling her life story for cash, she didn't want to deal with them.  
  
She was also grateful for the money because her job at the Double Meat Palace hadn't panned out. She had been fired despite her knowledge of the secret ingredient because she was continually having to take time off to take on Warren and his geek patrol. The last time they had acted up Buffy hadn't even had a chance to show up for work.  
  
So Buffy took herself and her cheques to the bank and looked at her soon-to-be- dismally-empty bank account, sighed, and started to write the cheques to pay the bills. The job market was little better. The only place Buffy could find work was as one of those irritating people who ambush you in a shopping mall and spritz you with perfume. Buffy, being the new girl, got to have the perfume no one would buy anyway. Of course.  
  
Yet again she found herself with no money to her name and a lousy job. The last $100 was going, as promised, to Spike. Now all Buffy could do was wait and hope that this whole book thing worked out. In the meantime, "Dawn!"  
  
"What?" called the girl from upstairs.  
  
"Your teachers tell me that you're being disruptive in class," Buffy made her way up the stairs to where Dawn was frozen in her bedroom door, "Look. I'm not saying you have to let bullies walk all over you but you have to at least try to get along with the teachers."  
  
"Mrs. Delaney-"  
  
"I had Mrs. Delaney my first year here, and she was one of the few teachers I had who didn't think that I was a hooligan. She was also one of the few teachers who recognized every single class bully for who they were." Buffy gave her sister a level look, "I know it's tough, but she's not one of the bad ones, and if she's commenting on your behaviour like this maybe you need to change."  
  
Dawn stared in shock at her sister for a moment then screamed, "I hate you!" and whirled into her room slamming the door after.  
  
When Buffy got downstairs she saw Willow looking at her reproachfully. "What?" she asked her best friend.  
  
"Buffy, maybe you don't have to be so harsh." The ex-witch seemed patronising to the irritated and broke Slayer, who didn't, unlike her friend, have parents to fall back on, did have a sister to finish the upbringing of, and had the social services people telling her she was not eligible to receive welfare payments.  
  
"Willow," her voice was tightly controlled, "Tell me, do you think Mrs. Delaney is one of those teachers who would give a student unfair reports?"  
  
The hacker hesitated then said, "No."  
  
"Do you think, maybe, if Dawn is getting mediocre grades at best, bad ones at worst, and every single teacher she has, bar none, says that she's causing disruptions in the classroom that maybe there is some fault on Dawn's part?"  
  
"Well-"  
  
"Dawn, who used to get straight As in school with almost no visible effort, is now flunking her favourite subjects, getting called on disruptive behaviour, and has been stealing from the Magic Box." Buffy had gotten more wound up with each word and was now speaking with grim intensity, "I am Dawn's legal guardian. I now have to do the things that a parent does. That means providing for Dawn, giving her a stable home environment, calling her on it when she screws up, and I have to punish her when she does so deliberately. If I don't do this she will be taken away and put in a foster home."  
  
Willow was looking bug-eyed at the girl she suddenly barely recognized. Buffy had never taken that tone of voice with anyone except when slaying was involved. The fact that she was doing so now made Willow abruptly realise that Buffy was being a grown-up. An adult.  
  
"Willow, I have to be Dawn's mother now. I can't be her sister or her friend. You and I both know that a parent can't be friends with their kids, and from the moment Dawn was put in my care I essentially had the responsibility of a parent. I was able to slack off on that when Giles was here to be the grown-up, but I can't now."  
  
"Buffy," her friend leaned over and gently clasped her hand, "I know you mean well by being strict, but Dawn barely has any pocket money, and she can't do things like go to the movies with her friends or-"  
  
"That's because I have no money whatsoever in the bank." The certainty and grimness of the Slayer's voice stopped Willow's reprimand in its tracks. After all, what good to suggest Buffy give Dawn money when she had none to give?  
  
Neither woman noticed Dawn quietly creep up the stairs again. She had been planning on appealing to Willow, but Buffy's speech had forced her to rethink her position. Dawn knew she could do fine in school. The fact that she had been so distracted had been partly her fault. She also hadn't realised that they were in such dire financial straits. Giles had bailed them out before, and even then, the threat of poverty hadn't made much of an impact.   
  
Hearing Buffy talk that way, about adult things like money, parenthood, and social services. Suddenly the world was full of things Dawn barely understood. Things that had no relation to magic and that Buffy couldn't defeat by beating to a pulp. She retreated to her room to think over what she'd heard.  
  
When Spike popped by several hours later Dawn spilled out the whole story to him, and he looked at her gravely as she finished, ". . . And I didn't know that Buffy wasn't giving me money because of being broke, I just thought she was being mean!"  
  
"Easy Niblet," he put an arm around her and Dawn leaned into his ironically comforting presence. "The Slayer didn't want to worry you. You have enough on your plate what with school and losin' your mother and all. She was tryin' to keep you from worrying." Then he gave her a wry look, "And you're telling me you honestly didn't know that she was flat broke after I caught you snooping in her financial stuff?"  
  
The girl bit her lip and looked away shamefacedly, "But how do I fix it?"  
  
The look on Spike's face was one of vast amusement, "You're telling me you can't figure it out pet? All those things that she keeps after you to do, all that stuff about the social services and you have no idea?"  
  
Dawn's face lit up and she leaned forward to hug him, "Thanks Spike."  
  
"No problem luv." He got up to leave then turned back to her, "You might start with that large pile of homework you got there," he nodded at the desk, then swept from the room in a flare of leather. Dawn gave a dreamy sigh after he departed then settled in to do her homework.  
  
********************  
  
Spike arrived back downstairs to see Buffy holding a wad of cash. "What's that? The book people finally send you the money?" he asked.  
  
"Here's the last hundred dollars," Buffy gave one last longing look at the chunk of money in her hand, "It's your payment for the help with the book. The rest has paid off my bills and stuff. I even have groceries to last me until when I get my first pay cheque from work." She put the money into Spike's hand.  
  
"You didn't have to luv." Spike recalled how upset Dawn had been, and the shadows under Buffy's eyes confirmed how bad things were for her. For a moment he regretted that he had been spending so much time with Darla.  
  
She just smiled and said, "Why don't you take the girlfriend that you refuse to tell me about out somewhere instead of spending all your money on cigarettes."  
  
He considered refusing the money. She obviously needed it and was only giving it to him out of her misguided sense of morality. Still, it was hundred bucks that he'd earned, and Darla would like to go out to that new production of Shakespeare that was playing downtown. "Thanks Slayer," he said, and hurried off before he changed his mind and actually gave up the cash. God he'd turned into a pussy.  
  
Buffy watched him go thinking how sweet it was that Spike had almost had a generous impulse. The fact that it had almost happened at all was a testament to how much he'd changed. Her slight smile vanished as she remembered a vampire who was sweet not graded on a curve. Sometimes she missed Angel so much it left this pain in her chest. She'd tried to move on with Riley, to do what Angel had asked, but it felt too weird to be dating another man because her soulmate had told her to. It was way existential or something.  
  
Dawn had gone to bed and Spike had, no doubt, vanished off for another couple days to see his girlfriend that no one knew who she was. Buffy knew she existed because Spike kept coming by the Summers' home smelling of Chanel no 5. After all the angst and worrying of the day Buffy went upstairs and went to bed. She was exhausted, and she couldn't ambush people at the mall the next day looking like one of the living dead.  
  
************************  
  
Two more months passed and Spike and Buffy's book hit the shelves of bookstores. It opened to reasonable reviews by several critics, some rave reviews by a couple of sci-fi magazines, and Buffy got two free copies in the mail. One for her, and one for her co-author William LePointe. She'd rolled her eyes at the name, "William The Spike? Please!"  
  
His reply had been succinct, "So Anne Winters is so much more subtle?"  
  
The two had spent time just flipping through a book that they had written and was their novel. Well, Buffy's biography, but who other than the two of them knew? It was a literary work put together by their own four hands.   
  
It was another two and a half weeks after the premier that Buffy received a letter from her publishers requesting that she and William meet them at their LA head offices. The pair pulled into the underground parking lot and hurried up to the office for the meeting. Neither had a clue as to what was coming next.  
  
Spike and Buffy hesitantly entered the room they had been directed to and sat down when a stern faced man with a formidable grey beard gestured for them to do so. At his side sat an impeccable secretary, and on his other side was a somewhat more genial looking man with light brown hair who identified himself as Jeffrey Turner.  
  
The other man turned out to be one of the executives of the company, and the vampire and slayer were exchanging nervous looks when he began to speak. "I understand you are the two authors of the "Kitty the Demon Huntress" book?" he asked. They nodded in response. "I hope you realise how important it is that this matter be handled carefully," he continued, "We here at Mitchell publishing always appreciate the efforts of our authors. However, in this case we seem to have underestimated the issues involved in your book."  
  
His expectant look only confused and worried the two listening intently to the businessman's words. "Oh?" said Buffy finally.  
  
Apparently satisfied with the inane comment he proceeded, "So, I hope you will understand when we decide to cancel your contract to redraw it in a manner that is preferable for all concerned."  
  
"Oh," chorused Spike and Buffy faintly.  
  
Jeffrey Turner now spoke. "I hope you understand that as an unknown quantity we must keep our options open. This is why we're offering a very limited contract."  
  
Buffy's eyes filled with tears, "Are we... I mean, did it sell that badly?"  
  
It was the two executives' turn to seem confused. "What do you mean?" asked Turner.  
  
"What does she mean?!" Spike exploded, "We're bloody talkin' about the fact that you're talkin' like you need to revise the contract 'cause you're not makin' enough money on it! She's workin' her ass off in the damned mall every night to keep herself and her sister from bein' thrown out of their home, and you're tellin' her she isn't gettin' any money! What the bloody hell else are you babbling about?!"  
  
Both executives looked taken aback but the secretary immediately filled in the gap looking intensely sympathetic. "You really have no idea," she said.  
  
"No idea about what?" Spike interrupted, grumbling.  
  
"The book has hit the top of the New York bestsellers' list. You're being recommended by critics all over the English speaking world. People love your book. The contract ups your percentage from eight to twenty percent of the profits with a reduction to fourteen should sales on this book drop."  
  
The two stared. The notion that their book could become a hit had never occurred to them. "How... How much money are we talking about?" Buffy asked, bracing herself for a shock. She wasn't disappointed.  
  
"Well," said the secretary hauling out her facts and figures, "We've made around 2.7 million in profits so far, so that's about $540,000. Sales are continuing, of course, those are just the latest figures."  
  
Buffy started crying and left Spike to do the dickering as she thought about how she would have enough money to give Dawn an allowance, to pay for food, the bills, and all sorts of things she hadn't been able to do. She didn't even begin to get herself under control until Spike realised that she wasn't acting to give him an easier time bargaining for extra perks. Then he began to cuddle her in earnest, and finally walked her down to his car, half supporting her as she hiccoughed with the tail end of her sobs.  
  
"You alright?" he asked once she was calm again.  
  
Buffy looked at him for a moment then broke into a wide smile, "I'm just so amazed. And happy," she explained, "I'll be able to pay for stuff again. I won't have to default on bills."  
  
"You also have a writing career to start," Spike said.  
  
Buffy looked blankly at him, "What?"  
  
"Weren't you listening at all? They want us to write a second book. Start a series." Spike's grin was so wide that Buffy thought he was joking for a moment. When it became apparent that he wasn't she threw herself at him with a squeal.  
  
"We have a bestseller on the market! We're famous!" The two settled into plans for the second book as they drove back to Sunnydale. Both agreed that to include their friends would create unnecessary complications. Also, since both the A-team and the Scoobies had given up on fantasy novels after discovering the reality (none of them up for a busman's holiday) it was extremely unlikely anyone would ever find out about the series.  
  
***********************  
  
"Hey Trish!" called Roger.  
  
"What?" responded his wife.  
  
"You have got to take a look at this new book that just came out. It's a lot like Fred's life out in LA." Roger grinned as he held up his brand new copy of "Kitty the Demon Huntress". Trish and Roger Burkle settled in to read this new book. Neither had been very much interested in fantasy before, but since finding out all that stuff was real they'd taken to reading it. The ones with happy endings usually helped make them feel better about letting Fred live that dangerous life in LA. 


	3. Two Blondes to Three

Part 3  
  
Another two months since Spike and Buffy's surprising new deal, they were both receiving fan mail by the kilogram, and both had become expert at recognizing letter types. Those that deserved a polite form letter, those that required more personal treatment, and the ones that required a call to the police asking that the stalker be sent a restraining order. Spike, in particular, was entertained by the female fans hurling themselves at his feet in writing.  
  
Unfortunately, the fame of their alter egos, money, and having their second book half written before they even began it didn't prevent the major difficulty of writing what happened in the Master's caves. Spike had never met the vampire, but each time he and Buffy would write something, it either sounded wrong, or turned out to be wrong when Spike subtly questioned Darla on it.  
  
Finally she lost her temper and one afternoon demanded, "Spike! Either you tell me why the hell it is you want to know all these things about that one benighted year in Sunnydale, or I will throw you through that window!"  
  
Spike took one look at his girlfriend's furious face and caved in, "Buffy and I wrote this book together, and it was a really big hit." Darla's face was so completely neutral Spike cautiously reached for the lamp next to him for a weapon. "Anyway, the publisher's asked us to write a second book. Since we based the first one on the first few months of the Slayer's life after she was called, we picked up when she arrived in Sunnyhell."  
  
Darla stared at him for a moment then began to laugh, "You expect me to believe that cockamamie story about you being an author?" she giggled harder, "How are you avoiding people figuring out that they are being written about? The Slayer's discovery? Demons?"  
  
"We changed the names of the people, places, demons, and species." Spike's voice was even.  
  
Darla glanced at him in shock. She'd thought he was making a joke. Now it seemed she was involved with a madman. "Spike! You can't seriously expect that no one will figure out what you're writing?"  
  
Spike just handed her his copy of the book and said, "Look, read it, and if you still think we're wrong I'll find a way to talk the Slayer out of it." He turned to go, then paused and said, "I'll have you know that your new red sweater was bought with the money I got from the book sales." Then he did leave, and Darla shrugged deciding that she might as well see what insanity her lover had gotten himself involved in.  
  
Hours later she was forced to admit that she would not have known this was an autobiography of the Slayer if she hadn't been warned. Darla came downstairs to see Spike and Angel bonding again. It was an image that still made her squint to be certain her sight wasn't failing. *Ah well. Probably the happiness of having another male vampire to posture to,* she thought. "Spike, could I speak to you for a moment?"  
  
He came bounding over, "What love?"  
  
"I'll help on your project," she said, mindful of Angel's presence. He glanced over curiously, but didn't say anything.  
  
Spike, on the other hand, was grinning widely and he pulled Darla against himself and kissed her long and hard. So long, in fact, that when Cordelia came in with the rest of the human employees she took one look at them and said in disgust, "God! Don't you people ever stop with the PDAs?"  
  
"Nope," replied Darla, in between kisses.  
  
Cordelia made a sound of distress while Fred said, "Well I think it's sweet they're so in love," and the menfolk all took off.  
  
In the car ride to Sunnydale Spike explained the details of the situation to Darla. "So anyway," he wound up, "The Slayer doesn't know my girlfriend is you, so I'm goin' to have to break it to her carefully."  
  
Darla aimed a skeptical look at him, "You're not just going to walk up to her and tell her that I'll be helping are you?"  
  
"No! What do you take me for?"  
  
She smiled at him. "A sweet vampire who is occasionally an utter idiot."  
  
*****************  
  
Buffy was grimly struggling with the book. Spike had promised he would be back with help and she hoped he would get there soon. It would be nice to have at least one thing go well that day. Willow had suffered what seemed to be a delayed reaction to quitting magic and had started to act like a complete lunatic. They'd had to drug her to the gills to keep her from doing any more magic.  
  
Dawn had decided that today would be the perfect day to drop her "Seventh Heaven" impression that had been going on for months. Buffy was grateful she had done so because the sheer saccharine quality of Dawn's behaviour had been freaking her out, but why had she chosen that day to do it?  
  
What's more, Xander and Anya wanted Buffy and Willow to be their witnesses when they eloped, which meant Buffy had to listen to Anya work on her vows incessantly. Today it had been, "Xander, I love you. I have always had the greatest respect for you. At least, once we started to have sex regularly I did." And so on.   
  
Then there had been the rainbow coloured thing that had partially destroyed the living room, made its way to Buffy's bedroom and proceeded to destroy the whole room, leaving a two inch thick layer of slime on everything it touched, and shredding the leather jacket Angel once gave Buffy. Now the room was unlivable and Angel's jacket couldn't even be buried because there was no telling what that would do to the back yard. It also meant another connection to Angel was severed.  
  
That just made her think more of him, which just depressed her more. The sacrifices each had made for the other, the way her ring had vanished into the mansion. She still didn't know why they hadn't been able to find it. She had wanted it back. Now he was living in LA, and Buffy had no notion of how he was, or even if he was okay. But they had agreed to stay out of each other's lives and she couldn't just barge on in.  
  
She heard the front door open and called, "Okay, if this is another one of those rainbowy demons, come back later please, I'm kinda busy!" She rounded the doorway to the front hall and saw Spike looking quizzically at the rainbow-slime-covered jacket.  
  
"Rough day pet?" he asked.  
  
Buffy just hugged him in relief, "I don't want to talk about it," she declared. "Did you bring that friend you said could help?"  
  
He took a deep breath, *Now or never.* "Yeah. Look Slayer, there's something I've got to tell you about her."  
  
"She's the girlfriend you refuse to tell us about?" Buffy said with a wry smile. His eyes widened in surprise. "What?" she teased, "You thought I wouldn't guess?"  
  
Grimly he continued, "Yeah, but there's more."  
  
"More?"  
  
"You've actually met-"  
  
Buffy interrupted her face panicked, "You haven't started seeing Faith have you? I mean, I know she's trying to make up for stuff, but I don't think I could handle her being here, and-"  
  
"Slayer would you bloody let me finish before I lose my nerve!?" Spike glared at her until she stopped hyperventilating. "Thank you. No, it's not Faith. Bint's still in jail as far as I know. Anyway," he shot another glare at Buffy who made a 'lips zipped' gesture and sat down looking ingenuous. "She's a vampire who just got her soul returned a little while back." Buffy got a wide-eyed look and her mouth began to open. So Spike lunged forward and placed a hand over her mouth and shot her a significant look. She shut up. "The thing is, me, her and Angel all go way back, and he slept with her." Spike took a look at Buffy and began to speak faster. "Somehow she got knocked up, and the kid infected her with his soul. She and Angel are raisin' the kid together but they're not seein' each other. Anyway, so she and I started to date and so on, and she's really changed from the last time you saw her so please be kind. I mean if you can forgive Angel for what he's done you can do it for Darla right?" By the time he reached the end of his speech Spike was barely intelligible, but Buffy caught it all.  
  
"Darla." she said after a brief pause. The vampire in question, standing on the front porch winced. That tone boded ill. "Darla? Angel... slept with DARLA?!" Spike began to edge toward the door in case Buffy tried to kill his lover. Then she said something so completely unexpected and self-pitying it threw Spike a loop. "So basically I'm just this replacement for someone guys actually like. No one wants me, they just go out with me until they can make it with her."  
  
Spike shot her a look of irritation, "Is that what you think? Angel went out with you because you're a cheap replacement for Darla?"  
  
Buffy was crying by this point, "What else am I supposed to think? She's prettier than me, she's obviously better in bed than I am, she's got all those centuries of culture, and she won't get all wrinkly."  
  
Darla, standing on the front porch was stunned. The Slayer actually thought Angel thought she was bad in bed? *That's a laugh and a half.*   
  
Spike wasn't nearly as controlled, "What are you babbling about Slayer? He rambles on about you all the time." When Buffy shook her head in denial he just shook her and continued, "Do you have any idea how much time I've had to spend listening to tales of the Slayer and the Most Amazing Lay Ever? Hours!"  
  
Darla's eyes narrowed as she heard this. She was going to have to have a talk with Angel and Spike later. She would not have her son exposed to that kind of macho stupidity. 'Slayer and the Most Amazing Lay Ever.' Whatever.  
  
Buffy sniffled, "He ... he talks about it?"  
  
"In the most complementary terms about sex I've ever heard. And I've heard quite a few in my time." Spike waited as Buffy's sense of self reasserted itself, and she had managed to regain the confidence that Angel indeed loved her. Then he watched in dread as fury sparked in her eyes.  
  
"HE TALKS ABOUT IT?!" she demanded furiously. "He talks about us having sex often? That's ... And you encouraged it!" she turned her wrath on him, and Spike considered making a run for it before she killed him. "What the hell were you two thinking talking about me like that?"  
  
Spike tried to placate her, "Well, we were comparing our experiences with Darla," he said, forgetting her avidly listening presence on Buffy's front porch, "and you and Dru just kinda came up," he finished.  
  
"We just came up?" Buffy's mild voice didn't fool Spike in the slightest and he made a dash for the front door and ran straight into Darla who was looking more than slightly homicidal.  
  
"Discussing different experiences you two had with me?" the vampiress' sweet smile had Spike's head whipping back and forth as he calculated whether he'd be able to make it up to Dawn's room to hide behind the fifteen-year-old.  
  
Then Buffy said, "Darla, Spike and Angel really seem to trust you, come in." The two women grabbed Spike and began to manhandle him toward his car. "Darla, you got the keys to the trunk?" Buffy asked her one time nemesis.  
  
Darla grinned back and fished them out of Spike's pocket. "Here, I'll get the trunk open." They proceeded to stuff Spike into the trunk, and slammed the top down before he could get out again. Then they marched gaily back to the house, leaving Spike to contemplate his mistakes.   
  
Back in the house, Darla was making the limits of her involvement in the book clear. "I don't want to have anything that could be traced back to me except for the character that's supposed to be me. Okay?"  
  
"Sure," Buffy smiled, "I would never have tried this if it weren't for the sums of money involved." She shrugged, "Anyway, it would make things way complicated if we were to add another person to the list of authors."  
  
Darla's face gained a predatory smile, "Of course, I do want my portion of the money," she said.  
  
"Oh please," Buffy rolled her eyes, "Do you honestly think I wouldn't split with you? The real problem is getting Spike to part with a third of his earnings." She smiled cheerfully at her new friend. "If he and I each give you a third of our portions than we each get equal amounts, and you won't be anywhere on the books."  
  
They shook on it and they settled down so Darla could say what happened in the Master's caves when Buffy wasn't there. It was a half an hour to daybreak when they halted, and Buffy gave Darla directions to the mansion on Crawford street before cleaning up and diving under the covers of her makeshift sofa bed. Darla let herself out and she and Spike spent the day at the mansion.  
  
Buffy spent her day mopping up after the demon, finding out who had sent it, and then tracked Warren, Jonathan, and Tucker's brother down to have them arrested for stalking, breaking and entering, and assault. All three charges she could prove in court. Although technically none of them had actually done the assault, they had hired the demon that had done the physical damage so Buffy felt very little remorse at blaming them for it.  
  
That evening the couple drove back to LA, and Buffy grimly beat her story into a semblance of coherence. She also sighed, and arranged for Dawn to have some time off school to make a court appearance at the loony threesome's trial. Those things done she crawled into her no longer slimy bed, sighed again, and went back downstairs to sleep on the couch where the springs hadn't been ruptured due to demon slayage and made a mental note to visit someplace to get a new mattress the next day.  
  
Also to kill Dawn's geranium which was imitating a mining canary.  
  
********************  
  
The months passed again, and the second book was released. All about Kitty Winters' adventures in the Florida town of Brightsville, with her friends Ivy Alexander, and Harrison Rose, her minder Gilles Robert, the school bitch Juliette Jones, and the Legna demon, Emrys, derived from Ambrosius (it meant *something* like prince of light). The delicious irony of a demon with a name meaning 'Prince of Light' being in love with the killer of his kind captured their audience's attention, and book sales soared.  
  
People were even picking up copies of the anthology that contained Buffy's first story. The fan mail rolled in, and Buffy and Spike had to enlist Darla's help just to cope with the mail. People also began to demand the identities of bug-man, hacker girl, tweed guy, the sisters-in-arms, and the many others mentioned in the dedication.  
  
The worst was when the requests for talk show appearances came up. It was decided that going on Rosie O'Donnell was the best bet because none of the Scoobies or the A-Team watched the show.   
  
Buffy and Spike both wore wigs and makeup anyway. No sense in running the risk of being recognized. Darla spent the entire show channel flipping to keep people from noticing what she was watching. Her spastic and determined control of the television remote did not go unnoticed by the others.  
  
"God Darla! What is your problem?" Cordelia demanded on seeing the channel change yet again as she walked by.  
  
Darla whipped around looking like she had been caught stealing Gunn's secret stash of ballet paraphernalia. He denied its existence but everyone knew better, and woe betide the person who tried to touch any of his collection. "Nothing! What?" Darla yelped, changing the channel again as she did so.  
  
Cordy frowned at the vampire in bafflement at her behaviour. Something had to be up, because she had seen Darla this overset only once before, and that had been when they all thought Connor wasn't going to be born. "Are you like, suffering from a sudden dose of testosterone? 'Cause you're flipping channels like a guy."  
  
"Hey!" came the chorus of men.  
  
"Well it's true!" Cordelia shouted back, "If you three were any more possessive of the remote I would have to organise a battle to the death for it!" She turned back to Darla and said, "What's up?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Even Fred came to a dead halt at the words, and Angel started across the room to move Connor away from his mother. The moment he picked up the baby's playpen and began to move it, Darla's behaviour reverted to normal and she shot Angel a sharp look. "What are you doing with Connor?"  
  
"I'm moving him away from you because something is wrong with you. I want to know what before I'll let you anywhere near him." He hurried away.  
  
Wesley looked at him with mixed feelings, "Angel, are you certain something is wrong with her? Everyone has days like that. Especially around here."  
  
"Not Darla." Angel said with great certainty. "I've seen Darla try to appear innocent, and she does it unbelievably well. That was so terrible, and she's acting so oddly that I'm, quite frankly, scared."  
  
Darla's face darkened with fury and she stormed over to Angel, grabbed him by the ear, and dragged him into Wesley's office. The others stood around for a moment, then Wesley chivvied them all off to do something more productive than eavesdropping on the arguing vampires.  
  
"Do you think they're fightin'?" Fred asked with one of her wide eyed looks.  
  
Cordelia snorted, "Of course they're fighting, the only question is who's gonna come out on top."  
  
"I'm layin' odds on Angel." Gunn said. The comment cause Wesley to sigh and head for another room. At least elsewhere he wouldn't be caught in the crossfire about to erupt between Cordelia and Gunn.  
  
"Oh please!" she was saying as Wesley made good his escape, "The day Angel can outwit Darla at an argument is the day that Wesley asks you out on a date."  
  
"Leave me out of this please!" called Wesley from his hiding place.  
  
Gunn winced. "I really hope you're wrong 'cause Angel's gonna win this."  
  
"How much are you willing to put up?" Cordelia saw the opportunity and went for it.  
  
Fred was now looking very nervous, "Are you guys sure it's such a good idea to bet on this?"  
  
Gunn ignored her, "Twenty. You?"  
  
She grinned back, "You're on."  
  
Neither approached the door to the office having learned the hard way that Darla, unlike Angel, got revenge when people spied on her. It was rarely pleasant. So all they could do was wait, and ten minutes later Darla and Angel exited. Darla smiling triumphantly, Angel looking confused, and more than a little pissed.  
  
Cordelia held out her hand to Gunn who handed the money over silently.  
  
Darla, in the mean time, scooped Connor up and took him to his room. "Hey man," Gunn said, "What's got you so down?" He referred to Angel's downcast but befuddled exterior.  
  
"Hunh?" Angel asked, "Oh. Darla's taking Connor and she's spending the weekend with Spike out in Sunnydale."  
  
Even Fred was mildly taken aback, "You're lettin' Darla take Connor to spend the weekend with Spike?"  
  
"Whoah! Hold it!" Gunn started to berate Angel but stopped when he saw the vampire's face turn grim. Cordelia had no such compunctions.  
  
She felt Angel's forehead, "Well you're not feverish."  
  
"Okay, you know what? I made a decision with Darla that it would do both of us some good to spend time apart, and one of us has to take Connor, and she's doing it. I don't see why you're acting like this." Angel grumbled as he stomped off in grumpy righteous irritation.  
  
"He's kidding, right?" Gunn asked incredulously, "I mean, like ten minutes ago he's all I-don't-trust-her-when-she's-acting-funny, and now he's sayin' they decided together it was good to spend time apart? This from Mr. I-don't-wanna-let-Connor-out-of-my-sight-until-he's-forty?" He paused to take a breath and looked at the two women who just shrugged at him.  
  
"Well, if Angel says he trusts her, then I trust him to know," said Fred loyally.  
  
Cordelia just shook her head, "Whatever," she said, and stalked over to the filing cabinet. She needed to re-sort some of the files. Fred had been doing that weird filing thing of hers and Cordy couldn't find anything now. Why was Jessica Lewis filed under 'L' anyway? It was so much easier to put her under 'W' for 'wiseass'.  
  
****************  
  
Darla, Spike and Buffy went out that evening after leaving Connor with a very reliable babysitter Buffy knew. She'd saved the Quaini demon from a couple loopy fungus demons so they were even able to have Connor looked after for free.  
  
"To success," Spike said raising his glass.  
  
The two women smiled and returned the toast. Buffy looked at her glass of wine and said, "God I hope the tradition of me and alcohol doesn't continue."  
  
"What tradition?" Darla asked.  
  
Buffy chuckled, and at Spike's prompting look, he hadn't heard those stories either, she explained. "Well, when I was sixteen Cordelia and I crashed this frat party. I had one drink, and almost got eaten by a giant demon snake."  
  
Spike raised a scarred eyebrow, "That hardly constitutes a tradition."  
  
"In my first year of university I had some beer which turned out to have been cursed by this vengeful bartender." Buffy said in response.  
  
"Why? What did it do?" Darla questioned, now interested.  
  
Buffy frowned, "Do you mean 'why did he curse the beer?"  
  
Spike grinned, "I want to know why he cursed the beer, and what it did."  
  
"This is so embarrassing," Buffy said, then she smiled and plunged onward anyway, "Well, all the college kids used to make fun of him or something 'cause he didn't go to university. So, he made the beer turn anyone who drank it into a cave person."  
  
Spike's eyes widened, but Darla got what Buffy hadn't said and giggled, "You were..." she trailed off and started laughing in earnest.  
  
Buffy glared briefly at the vampiress before joining her in laughter, "Oh boy was I. I wasn't as bad as the guys though. They turned into these apelike freaks. I was just limited vocabulary girl."  
  
Spike had caught on, "Like what? Me Slayer you vampire?"  
  
Buffy flushed, "It was more like me hitting the TV and saying 'Want people', then hitting on Xander claiming he smelled nice. I also spent a very happy half hour making myself dizzy on my desk chair." The story had the two vampires in quiet hysterics, and when the waiter came to take their orders Buffy was beet red.  
  
As they talked that evening plans were made for another book, this one to be released the next year. Connor had started to toddle about as well as make sounds that were almost words, and both Spike and Darla wanted to have the time to be with Connor when he started to speak. Spike was planning to teach the boy about poker and Darla was intending to be there to minimise the damage caused by her son spending time around Cordelia and Gunn.  
  
Buffy fully agreed. She was perfectly happy to relax and let the book come out at its own rate while the others brought in money. After all, they didn't want to saturate the market with 'Kitty the Demon Huntress'.  
  
They headed out to Spike's apartment after picking Connor up. After playing with the baby until Darla took him forcibly away, Buffy revealed her long term literary plans to the two vampires. "I was thinking, maybe we could do a couple books of short stories based on the watcher diaries," Buffy said.  
  
The two just blinked. Connor made an adorable little gurgle in his portable crib and the two women made 'awww' faces until he stopped. Spike looked divided between being sickened by their behaviour and being charmed as well. Then he shook himself out of it and grabbed the first topic at hand, "What exactly were you thinking?"  
  
Buffy looked up, confused, then her face cleared, "Oh," she took a breath, "Sort of three different perspectives on the adventures of a slayer. The slayer, the vampires she goes after, and a third group. I'm thinking maybe the watchers, but if there are enough slayers who had outside help and stuff, then maybe friends and so on."  
  
"Are you sure you can do that?" Darla asked, "I mean the Council doesn't just hand those books to anyone."  
  
Spike grinned, "Oh she can. Giles left almost all of his books here when he went back to England. Including all the watcher diaries."  
  
"He said it was just in case we needed them," Buffy added with a sly smile of her own.  
  
The comment decided them and both agreed to tell one story each about an encounter with a slayer. Together they began to hash out the details of the next book which would cover from where the last left off until that evening, during Buffy's first year in Sunnydale, that she and Angel had decided that a vampire and Slayer couldn't date.  
  
"Are you sure though, pet?" Spike asked when she proposed the endpoint, "Isn't that a bit dramatic?"  
  
She gave him a sad smile, "Maybe, but I have to tell you that when I left that night I didn't come out of it for days," she shrugged, "I just found that to be a closed chapter at the time. I want to give the readers the same feeling."  
  
"But to finish with you walking away? I don't know. I think we need something else in there," said Darla. Then she seemed to have a moment. One of those that comes rarely to authors when seraphs float gently to earth in transfiguring light surrounded by the music of the spheres, bearing inspiration with them in nearly tangible form.   
  
Well, she had a really good idea anyway. "I'll talk to Angel. See if I can't get what was happening then out of him." She shot an amused look at Spike. "I can certainly do better than Spike."  
  
"Hey!" 


	4. Success!

Part 4  
  
So it happened that, a week later, when Angel was trying to brood over Buffy, Darla firmly walked into his room, sat down and said, "Alright, we leave you alone in here and you brood about that girl. Maybe you ought to try talking about her for a change."  
  
Angel glared, "Leave me alone, and don't talk about her that way." He then firmly turned his back and returned to one of his favourite brooding pastimes. Repeatedly drawing the person he was agonising over, and then crumpling up the ones that didn't satisfy him.  
  
"Angel," Darla gently laid her hand on his, "You never talk about her. It might help you to cope with things if you stopped bottling them up. I mean, I'd love to know what is it that makes her so special to you." At that he looked up searchingly.   
  
When he found not even a hint of sarcasm he he fully turned to face her and started to speak. "In 1996 I was living on the streets in New York. I was feeding off of rats, and living like a vagrant. I was a vagrant. This demon, Whistler, found me and offered me the chance to be someone. I was set to refuse, but he told me to see something first.  
  
"So we flew out to LA, and he drove me in a car with blacked out windows to a street facing a school. That was when I saw her. I saw her called, and I followed her that evening when she killed her first vampire, and when she went home and cried in her bedroom for the loss of her innocence. Her parents were fighting downstairs, and all I knew was that I loved this slayer." Angel looked at Darla who was much taken aback by the force of Angel's feelings and the poetic language he was speaking. She briefly considered letting herself out in the face of these embarrassingly powerful emotions, but she had a mission and was damned if she was going to fail because of some stupid feelings that he should have privacy.  
  
So she plunged on, "So, when did you notice she'd started to fall for you?"  
  
An unbelievably goofy smile crossed his face. She'd never seen anything like it, not even when he was at his most 'idiotically proud daddy' as Spike had once said. Angel's eyes went a little misty and he leaned back slightly, "The night when I wound up staying in her bedroom. The Three had just chased us to her house and she refused to let me leave in case they were still lurking out there," he paused and smiled, "She was so nervous when she remembered she didn't have a spare bed to offer me. God, if she had known what I was thinking..." he trailed off, lost in reminiscence.  
  
"What were you thinking?" prodded Darla, now fascinated for her own sake.  
  
"I was thinking that one bed and the two of us worked completely." He glanced at Darla and explained, "She just said 'One bed, two of us. That doesn't work.'" Darla chuckled slightly. He was right. It did and it didn't. He continued with his story, "The moment I knew she felt something was when she asked if I snored."   
  
Darla was mildly surprised. She had no idea the Slayer could be that subtle. Certainly, for a fifteen-year-old girl, that was excellent fishing. "What did you tell her?" Buffy hadn't told her about this.  
  
"I said it had been a long time since anyone was able to let me know." The look on Angel's face was sheer deviltry as he said this and Darla gave a snort of laughter.  
  
"You didn't." He just looked at her and tilted his head meaningfully.  
  
Darla began to think furiously. She had come here to find out what had happened from Angel's perspective that night at the Bronze. The problem was asking the question so that Angel wouldn't suspect anything. So, she asked another question that would hopefully lead him to answer what she wanted to know. "The night you two kissed the first time, I was close enough to hear the screams, but what happened in there?"  
  
He winced, "I lost control. The last person I'd been close to that way was you, and you liked it when I changed face while we were kissing. It was a habit I had somewhat gotten into, and when she and I kissed," he paused, his eyes closed as he relived the moment, "The feelings were just so intense I couldn't help myself."  
  
Darla just stared. "You? You lost control? You never lose control!"  
  
He gave her a wry grin, "Buffy makes me lose it."  
  
"Apparently." She shook her head, "That's not what I meant. How did the two of you wind up kissing in the first place?"  
  
Angel laughed softly again, "She thought I read her diary," he said simply.  
  
"What?"  
  
He sighed, "I was stuck at her house all day. I couldn't sleep, and her mother came up a couple times to straighten up, and I had to hide in the closet. Anyway, there was nothing to do, so I read a couple of her romance novels," he shuddered. Darla joined him. Those things were unbelievable trashy. Angel continued, "I'll admit the parts she had dog-eared were... interesting." Darla raised and eyebrow at him and he changed the subject. Sort of, "I also went through a couple of her Cosmopolitan magazines. I think that's the only reason she was so amazing on our one night together," he added.  
  
Darla gave him a LOOK. "What is that supposed to mean?"  
  
"When we made love on her seventeenth birthday, I would never have known she was a virgin if it weren't for the... uh... physical evidence." Angel looked embarrassed as he spoke, and Darla rolled her eyes at him.  
  
"You're more than 200 years old Angel. You can say 'maidenhood'. Hell you can say 'hymen'." Then she paused, "What do you mean that you wouldn't have been able to tell she was a virgin if it weren't for that?"  
  
Angel twitched slightly and Darla recognised the signs of incipient male fantasy. She'd seen enough of them over the centuries. "Have you ever read one of those magazines? The stuff in them sometimes puts Spike's hard core internet pornography to shame. 'The Top Ten Methods to Please Your Man' reads like the Kama Sutra, only it's supposed to arouse," he said as his eyes glazed over in a cross between the 'Buffy look' and the 'man in lust look'.  
  
Her eyes widened, "And mothers let their daughters read that stuff?"  
  
He shook his head ruefully, "You ought to see the things Buffy snuck out of her mother's room."  
  
Darla shook herself out of her state of distraction and forced him back on track. The story just kept getting more interesting. She was going to have to talk the other two into some flashbacks or retrospective bits to cover Angel's version of events. "So what about the diary thing?"  
  
"Hunh?" Then he realised what she was asking. "Oh. Well, when she got upstairs she asked what I'd done all day. when I told her that I had read a little, I must have gestured to where her diary was." He grinned. "She was absolutely furious and started to tell me about how 'A' didn't stand for 'Angel', it stood for 'Achmed, a charming foreign exchange student', and that hunk could mean a lot of things, bad things!" The last was said in mock dramatic tones, and Darla was very amused. That the girl had thought she could manage to cover up her crush by saying something like that was hysterically funny.  
  
"Then what?"  
  
"Then I told her I hadn't read the diary, she believed me and was utterly humiliated. Of course by then I was trying to find a way to get away."  
  
Darla interrupted, "Why? If you were so in love with the girl why didn't you just go along with it?"  
  
It was now his turn to give her a LOOK, "Because it was wrong! I'm a two centuries old monster! She deserves better!" His voice was full of bitterness, and Darla smacked him upside the head for it.  
  
"How can she do better than someone who, loves her as much as you do, who can watch her back when she's in a fight, and understands her calling?" She couldn't believe the man's stupidity. There were some things that Angel's evil twin and even his human self had over the current incarnation. The most obvious of which was that they didn't have this thrice bedamned inferiority complex. She'd apparently sired a moron.  
  
Angel just looked at her with those pathos ridden eyes and made her feel like a cretin for hitting him, "We can't be together because of the loophole in my curse anyway," he said, "So it doesn't matter whether I'm good for her or not."  
  
Darla stood up and joined him where he sat on the bed, and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "It's okay," she said, "Maybe I should go." She made a move to stand up, but Angel pulled her back down and leaned into her.  
  
"No. You were right. I have to talk about this. So I'll pick up where I left off?" He gazed at her with those sad dark eyes, and Darla hugged him gently before nodding encouragement. "Where was I?" he asked.  
  
"You were trying to get out of the situation."  
  
"Right. I started trying to tell her that she was a wonderful person and deserved a guy her own age, and told that I wanted to kiss her instead." Darla just rolled her eyes. Angel, unaware of the byplay continued. "We both started talking and I tried to get back to the speech I'd prepared about how the age difference was to big, and we couldn't be a couple. The next thing I know, she's looking at me with those big eyes, dressed in a small silky dress with a miniskirt, and then we were kissing."  
  
Darla finished the scene for him. "Then you lost control etc."  
  
He sighed wistfully. "Yeah." They were both silent for a couple moments until the wistful look on Angel's face intensified.   
  
Darla glanced at him and asked, "What's wrong?"  
  
"I..." he trailed off indecisively.  
  
"What is it?" she gently laid her hand over his.  
  
He looked down, fidgeting with his hands. "I just sometimes wish she and I had started to date after I staked ... you that night."  
  
The opening she had been looking for! "You didn't?"  
  
"No. The evening after we met at the Bronze and we decided that a vampire and a Slayer couldn't be anything," his expression was chagrined, "How right we were."  
  
"What happened? I mean, the look on your face just says something did." Darla prompted gently. She didn't want him to be hurt, and she didn't want to blow her cover. If her ever figured out she was pumping him for information...  
  
"Well, we met on the dance floor and she asked if I was okay, I asked after her mother, and then we pretty much agreed that nothing good would come of us."  
  
"And..."  
  
"And we both babbled about how we had to just give up the impossible dream."  
  
"Angel, if you don't tell me what else happened I will not be held responsible for my actions." Darla was getting irritated. She could see there was more, and he was just gazing into space, and rubbing that small burn on his chest... that wasn't there until after he killed her she'd bet. "Does what happened next have anything to do with that scar you're rubbing?"  
  
He glanced at her startled, then said ruefully, "Yeah. We kissed. She was wearing the cross I gave her when we finally met and it burned me. I didn't even notice until after she stepped away."  
  
Now that she looked at it Darla could see the shape was crosslike. "You didn't notice you had a cross on your chest?" she asked dumbfounded.  
  
"No. It hurt so much just giving up all my hopes about her that it didn't start to hurt until we stopped kissing. Then she walked into the crowd. It was like watching an angel sweep through a sea of humanity. She just lit up the dark in that room."  
  
There was more silence, finally broken by Connor crying downstairs. They both got up and started to the door when Angel stopped Darla and looked at her seriously, "Thank you."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"For helping me remember why I love her so much." He fidgeted again briefly, then asked, "I don't suppose you'd be willing to listen again sometime?"  
  
*YES!* "Anytime Angel."  
  
***********************  
  
Buffy's father reappeared and took Dawn away with him for a vacation in Hawaii, Tara and Willow figured out a witch could do as good a job at patrolling as a slayer, and Anya and Xander's second attempt at a wedding had gone off fine and the couple were now visiting the Grand Canyon. All this meant that when Buffy and Spike's people at the publisher's asked the pair to go on a book tour they were able to.  
  
The tour took them on a whirlwind trip up and down the country, and through several other English-speaking countries as well. There was much consternation when William LaPointe revealed his extremely rare medical condition that prevented him from going outside during the day, but arrangements were made. So, while Dawn was relaxing in sunny Hawaii and surfing badly, Buffy and Spike were suffering from jetlag in an Australia hotel room.  
  
Still, the promotional tour went well, and the money rolled in. Spike kept insisting on calling to attempt another renegotiation. Finally the company told him in no uncertain terms that this was the last time they would negotiate with him until the contract came up for renewal. Spike bitched in between signing sessions and being unconscious in the hotel room he and Buffy shared.  
  
The first stop on the tour was New York. They had enough time to run up the Empire State Building and back down again, through the galleries and museums, and Times Square before they had to leave. That was in between signing enough books to give both of them tennis elbow, and going on enough talk shows to fill both of their BS quotas until Christmas.  
  
Next was Chicago, then Des Moines, then Las Vegas, and a whole bunch of other cities that blurred as the days passed. It got to the point that neither knew where precisely they were until the radio talk show host said something like, "Welcome to KWBL! Indiana's favourite talk radio station!" At which point both would desperately try to recall what they knew about the state.  
  
The worst part was that they weren't going in any particular order. They didn't cross the country North to South, East to West, or even on a diagonal. They just bounced up, down, left and right. Then things degenerated because they woke up to find themselves in Canada. Someplace called Moosejaw. They went from there to Toronto, on to Vancouver, (both were grateful enough television shows were filmed there that they could say *something*), then out to Halifax, and so on.  
  
When they arrived in Britain, Spike tried to make a break for it and go to one of his favourite pubs. That failed when Buffy dragged him up to their room saying that since she didn't know her way around London he was going to have to suffer along with her by being stuck in the hotel with nothing to watch but snooker and the BBC. "Also, aren't you exhausted? I slept the entire flight and I can barely stand." Spike passed out on his bed.  
  
Then they headed to York. Then Ipswich. Then Swansea. Then Cork. Inverness, Aberdeen, and Edinburgh followed. Then back to London because they had to make a TV appearance. In between bouts of cricket. "Pansy sport!" Spike snorted.  
  
Then they crossed way too many time zones again, and woke up in Perth. Australia. "Weren't we supposed to be in Edinburgh?" Buffy asked.  
  
"We were there on Tuesday," Spike replied.  
  
"Oh."  
  
On to Sydney, Darwin, Adelaide, and Fremantle. "I just checked an atlas. Perth is right next to Fremantle. Couldn't we have come here while we were in the area before?"   
  
"Don't care. Wanna sleep." (thud)  
  
"Missed the bed."  
  
"Shut up."  
  
Two days later. "Why the hell are we in South Africa?"  
  
"Have you ever seen such pretty birdies?"  
  
"Spike, stop smoking and sleep. You're freaking the hell out of me."  
  
"Can't sleep. My arm hurts like it just got hit with a bat."  
  
"It 's all the book signings. I think I have carpal tunnel syndrome."  
  
The nightmare ended after an abysmal tour through the depths of redneck America. Then they both staggered back to Sunnydale and slept for a week. When Darla visited she found Spike didn't have the energy for anything. At all. This was discovered when four centuries of carnal experience had Spike falling asleep because he was allowed to lie still.  
  
Willow and Tara came by Buffy's one afternoon to find her and Spike unconscious in the kitchen. There was much worried consultation between the two. It was interrupted when Buffy sat up and said, "Oh hell. Spike!"  
  
"Hrghmph," came the response.  
  
"We're on the kitchen floor. I think we should at least get to the couch."  
  
"Hrghmph."  
  
Buffy dragged Spike to the couch and hoisted him on as the two witches watched in bemusement. "We're fine. Just tired. Really," she said.  
  
"Hrghmph," Spike added reassuringly.  
  
Willow looked doubtful, "Buffy, I've never seen you this tired. Are you sure you're alright?"  
  
"Hrghmph."  
  
It took Buffy and Spike several days to convince the two wicca that they had simply overtired themselves tracking down a demon on their 'road trip'. Luckily, Buffy had kept a trophy of the sole demon they had run across on their tour, and she showed it to Willow who immediately requested that her friend throw out the incredibly disgusting horn her friend had chopped off the demon.  
  
"It's not a horn," said Buffy.  
  
Willow blinked at her, "But you said that was the source of its power, and it's hard and pointy."  
  
Buffy nodded sagely, "It is, but the demon was a sexual predator that lured people into its grasp with psychic powers granted by this." As she spoke she handed it to Willow, who only held it until what Buffy had said reached her.  
  
"Ewww!"  
  
*******************  
  
Spike made his way to LA as soon as he was able to drive without falling asleep at the wheel. When he got to the Hyperion Darla demanded several times during the greetings with the other members of the A-Team whether Spike was completely certain he was recovered from his bout with total exhaustion. When she was satisfied he was back to normal he was forced to give her several protracted apologies for falling asleep when she was trying to do things to him that were cardinal sins in at least five religions.  
  
In between the apologies she heard about the tour. "So, the first people who are askin' us to sign their books want to know the answers to some of the most bloody stupid questions I ever heard."  
  
"Like what?" Darla asked.  
  
Spike growled in irritation, "Like 'Why doesn't the huntress own a submachine gun?' and 'Are you gay? 'Cause you write Kitty so well,' and 'Are you and Ms Winters married? I know you said you aren't in every interview I've ever seen but I just wanted to be sure because you're so cute together.'"  
  
Darla glared, "That's not funny."  
  
"It's not meant to be. Some bint in a purple sweater with large yellow polka-dots asked me that. Twice." Spike was now all tense, so Darla was forced to relax him to get more information out of him.  
  
When she had gleaned all the details she could, she presented him with her findings on Angel's perspective about his and Buffy's relationship. She spoke of the sheer number of times he waxed eloquent in poetic language when discussing his soulmate, and told Spike all about the almost-words Connor had been babbling in all summer.  
  
"He's been saying 'Nah' a lot, and I really think he's figured out that it acts as a negation when he says it," Darla said eagerly, "And just this morning he called me 'Mah'." She was so very proud that Spike decided not to ruin the moment by pointing out that the boy also frequently said, 'Ah', 'Bah', Kah', 'Dah', 'Fah', and so on. The boy had a tremendous grasp of the existence of consonants and vowels, but Spike was uncertain that meant he was starting to talk. Didn't they have about six months until babies actually started speaking?  
  
Angel was also a big soppy goof about his son, and Spike found himself coping with an Americanised Angel who wanted to teach his son ice hockey. "Why don't you get the boy a football and teach him a real sport?" Spike asked as Angel and Gunn made fools of themselves with miniature hockey sticks.  
  
"I don't want him playing a game with that much violence in it," Angel explained to Spike, (conveniently disregarding the fact that NHL hockey is frequently more violent that the blood sport that is boxing, or even American football or a rugby match) "Besides, those pads look ridiculous."  
  
It took Spike a moment to figure out what his grandsire was talking about, during which time Gunn had gotten into an argument with Angel about the great American pastime of watching grown men tackle each other while wearing garish uniforms. "How can you say that? Football is the greatest sport ever!"  
  
"They're grown men wearing bizarrely coloured breeches and with frequently stupid team names," Angel retorted. "I mean really, the Miami Dolphins?"  
  
"Hey the Dolphins are a great team! Besides there's a lot of strategy involved in a game, and those guys have to work really hard-"  
  
"To look like tubs of lard who give each other concussions?"  
  
Spike interrupted them at this point having determined that Angel had been speaking American to him and not English. "You bleedin' moron! Sometimes I wonder if you're not some impostor from Philadelphia pretendin' to be Angelus!"  
  
"Hey!" complained Angel.  
  
Gunn had a more pertinent question, "Why Philly?"  
  
"It just fit." Spike glared at Angel again, "I was talkin' about football you wanker. Real football, the sport Americans call soccer?"  
  
Angel matched Spike's glare with one of his own, "I want him to grow up here, so he should be like the other kids his age."  
  
"You want to turn him into..." Spike paused as he searched for an adequate descriptive. Then Cordelia came walking in speaking with one of her insipid friends on the phone and Spike had his word. "Her!" he said pointing at Cordelia who had just said, "So, I like, totally agree. If Becky can't get Davis to take her out she should definitely make him ask her."  
  
Suddenly aware of the scrutiny she told her friend, "Listen, Kelsey? I'll have to call you back." She turned to look at them fully, and said, "What?"  
  
All three men bolted in different directions, none wishing to face Cordelia's wrath. She just blinked at their retreating forms, shrugged, and called her friend back. "Anyway, so Kelsey? Yeah. I know. Becky needs to ask him to ask her so she can get him to ask her about... Well duh!" 


	5. Discovery

Part 5  
  
At eighteen months, Connor's first word was 'shag'. His second was 'duh'. By the time his parent were waiting for his third word, Cordelia and Spike had both been banned from speaking to Connor until they could influence his language with good vocabulary. His third word was demon, which got Gunn and Wesley thrown out because Angel and Darla couldn't be certain who had said it.  
  
Eventually, though, Connor called Angel 'Daddy', and Darla 'Mommy', and they repealed the ban on his bedroom. Darla began to take Connor out to see Buffy with some frequency. It allowed for Buffy to see Angel's son, who she loved, Darla to add Angel's unwitting contributions to the book, and Buffy to be reassured that Angel was alive, well, and that he still loved her.  
  
Connor was close to three by the time the third book in the Kitty series came out. He was a merry child on whom Darla had impressed the importance of never mentioning his 'Auntie Buffy' to anyone but her and 'Uncle Spike'. Angel was now convinced his son was showing an aptitude for art while Darla was certain he was a musician. Everyone withheld from asking where he would get the talent for the latter.  
  
He wound up going to a couple of the book signings in the LA area, and was introduced as William's girlfriend's son. Which was true. Darla had to be placated when she found herself sort of in the news.  
  
"William LaPointe Has New Love Interest?" she queried angrily as she thrust the entertainment section under Spike's nose. "Since when am I new? Since when are you allowed to mention me in any way shape or form to the public?"  
  
"First off, you insisted I take Connor with me. What was I supposed to tell the people there? That he's Buffy's son?" Darla continued to glare, "I had to tell them something. I told them the truth because it's easier not to get caught lying when you haven't been."  
  
"Well I... You should have said something else," grumped Darla.  
  
******************  
  
Spike and Buffy were winding up another, much briefer, book tour, when Fred's birthday came around. That wasn't, in itself, the advent of the crisis. That was two weeks earlier when Trish and Roger Burkle decided to send their daughter the three "Kitty the Demon Huntress" novels as a sort of gag gift for her birthday.  
  
She opened them, read them, enjoyed the books and thought nothing more of them. Cordelia discovered them when she was poking around for something to read at the dentist's that wasn't a three-month-old copy of "Time Magazine". She scooped up the first book and found it absorbing enough reading. She finished it, and borrowed the sequel from Fred. She read that, then reread the bits that interested her, read the third in record time, and went to find Angel.  
  
"Angel?" she asked, coming around the corner holding the second book.  
  
Angel didn't look up from the book he was reading. They were in the middle of researching a particular prophecy, and they didn't have much to go on. "What Cordelia?" he asked her shortly.  
  
"I really think you should read this," she said, holding out the book.  
  
Wesley gave her a look of exasperation, "Cordelia, we don't have time for light reading at the moment. So, unless you have something important to tell us?" Wesley finished questioningly, but didn't give her the chance to respond as he reburied himself in his work.  
  
"I don't have time for a dime store paperback, Cordelia," Angel added.  
  
"Fine," she replied, stung, "I was just wondering if maybe this sounded familiar," she cleared her throat and began to read, ignoring the looks of irritation the others exchanged.  
  
"When her stalker had passed underneath her, she swung down and kicked him in the back. He was knocked to the ground, and Kitty positioned herself above him with a foot on his chest. 'Ah, heh. Is there a problem, ma'am?' he asked.  
  
'Yeah, there's a problem. Why are you following me?' Kitty demanded.  
  
His dark eyes looked as though they could see through her, 'I know what you're thinking. Don't worry, I don't bite.'"  
  
Angel's head jerked up from his book at those words and he stalked toward Cordelia. She ignored him and kept reading over Gunn and Wesley's puzzled queries.  
  
"She backed off and let him get up, but kept her stance battle ready. 'Truth is, I thought you'd be taller, or bigger muscles and all that. You're pretty spry, though.' the man massaged his neck as he spoke, and looked at her with mild chagrin.  
  
Uninterested in his rambling she demanded, 'What do you want?' The answer surprised her.  
  
'The same thing you do,' he was looking at her with all earnestness.  
  
She threw her hands in the air as she asked, 'Okay. What do I want?'"  
  
Angel broke into Cordelia's recitation, speaking from memory, "To kill them. To kill them all."  
  
Cordelia stopped reading the intervening descriptions and stuck to purely dialogue as she continued, Sorry, that's incorrect. But you do get this lovely watch and a year's supply of Turtle Wax. What I want is to be left alone!"  
  
Angel's voice was echoing the emotions of six years earlier as he remembered that first meeting in the alley, "Do you really think that's an option anymore? You're standing at the Mouth of Hell. And it's about to open. Don't turn your back on this. You've gotta be ready."  
  
"What for?" Cordelia's voice echoed with startling clarity the way Buffy had sounded, and Angel was so transported to the moment when he first said those things his voice took on the cryptic character he had been losing during his time in LA.  
  
"For the Harvest."  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
"Let's just say... I'm a friend." A small smirk graced Angel's mouth, and for a moment, Cordelia remembered why she'd had a crush on the dangerously mysterious man back in high school.  
  
Her voice held the precise note of uncertainty that had coloured Buffy's years before, "Yeah, well, maybe I don't want a friend."  
  
"I didn't say I was yours."   
  
Those final words, spoken as they were with an air of menace, snapped everyone out of the trancelike state they had been in watching the strange reenactment. "What the hell was that?" Gunn demanded.  
  
"Excellent question," Wesley said, "Cordelia, where did you find that book?"  
  
Fred hesitantly spoke up, "It's mine." Wesley, Angel and Gunn turned to stare at Fred. She continued saying, "It was a birthday present from my parents, but they're sold all over. I mean the series is a big international bestseller."  
  
"I didn't even realise it was about Buffy until I read the second book and recognised all the scenes with my character in them," said Cordelia, "Anyway, when I noticed, I read the thing over, and the sequel, and I was sure. Someone's been spying on Sunnydale."  
  
Angel promptly forgot about the prophecy which lay half translated on Wesley's desk. "Fred, Cordy, could you guys find out what you can about," he checked the book cover, "William LaPointe and Anne Winters?" He glanced at Wesley and said, "Wes, you had access to the watcher diaries about Buffy, could you look over that first book to see if the story matches what you know?"  
  
"Of course," responded the Englishman, "I would like to take a look at the others when you're through with them though."  
  
He was about to go tramping around issuing more orders when Gunn held up a newspaper. "Guys?"   
  
"What?" asked Angel.  
  
Gunn pointed to the article in the paper and said, "They're gonna have a final appearance on their book tour. They're signing books at the Barnes and Noble by the waterfront tomorrow afternoon."  
  
That decided their activities for the rest of the day as everyone went on a hunt for information on those authors and Angel snarled in irritation over being called, "Our own personal Legna demon," in the dedication.  
  
Darla got back late that night with Connor in tow so she had no notion, as she crawled into bed, that Angel and the others were planning on crashing the book signing. Worse, the A-Team had plans to babysit Connor that day instead of sending him to daycare. That meant they would be taking him with them. Darla's own plans had been to head to a nice spa she knew for a relaxing mudbath, massage, facial, manicure, pedicure, and an all 'round full day of pampering.   
  
****************  
  
So, the next day she took off before anyone could stop her, and the others were forced to take Connor with them to see, "Spike?" Angel said in a dumbfounded whisper.  
  
Cordelia shot him a wide-eyed stare that spoke volumes about how much he was freaking her out, "Please don't tell me you can smell him from here!" she hissed at him.  
  
Gunn overheard and looked at Angel questioningly, "Smell?"  
  
"No," Angel said quickly to forestall any further wandering down that road, "I mean he looks exactly the way he did when Drusilla first turned him. Right down to the glasses." He looked at the other vampire in a brief reappraisal, then said, "Well, the outfit isn't the same, but it's the sort of thing he would have worn." He glanced at the diminutive auburn-haired woman next to Spike, felt that tingling he always felt around Buffy, and found himself meeting his lover's (ex-lover's) eyes.  
  
At the same time, Buffy felt that slightly itchy feeling she always got when... She looked up, and sure enough, Angel was staring right at her. She sharply elbowed her partner-in-crime's ribs, and was rewarded with a, "What's the problem Anne?"  
  
Buffy kept her face calm by pure force of will, and said, "It was to get you back for that whole *Angel* thing." She smiled sweetly and jerked her head in an almost imperceptible motion toward her boyfriend (former), as he kept his son from wandering off into the crowds in the store.  
  
"Oh," replied Spike, who then stood up and said, "I'm just going to take a quick bathroom break," much to the disappointment of hordes of drooling female fans. He hurried off to the bathroom and switched out of his William LaPointe persona, and exited the washroom bearing a bag full of 'William's' clothes.  
  
Walking up to the others, he was greeted by an enthusiastic, "Uncle Spike!" from Connor who finally escaped his father's attempts to corral him and hurled himself at the bleach blonde vampire.  
  
"Hey kid, Angel, everyone," he said, "Why don't we head somewhere we can talk without bein' around three hundred other people?" Then he herded the A-Team out into the mall.  
  
After Connor had been pacified into keeping quiet with an ice cream cone, Cordelia bet everyone to the punch by asking, "What the hell do you think you're doing? And who is that woman anyway?"  
  
Angel answered the second question for Spike, "She's Buffy."  
  
Spike grinned, "Bint's got a damn good hand with the makeup and all. It was her idea for us to wear the wigs as well as the clothes so no one would recognise us."  
  
Wesley shot both vampires an irritated look and said, "I, for one, would still like to know what the bloody hell the two of you were thinking."  
  
At everyone's, except Connor who was trying to get more ice cream out of the cone without having to eat any of the cone, expectant looks Spike started to explain. He was interrupted when Buffy came trotting up carrying a bag of her own, and Connor hurled himself at her calling, "Auntie Buffy!"  
  
"Hey Connor," she said, picking him up and joining the others. Before Spike could ask she said, "We had about five minutes left before our official break. Why do you think those girls were trying extra hard to hurl themselves at you?"  
  
Spike winced, not looking forward to being the subject of teenage hormone-ridden fantasies for more of the afternoon. "I was just about to tell Angel's Scoobies here about why we're doing what we're doing."  
  
"Auntie Buffy?" asked Connor.  
  
Buffy smiled winningly down at the boy, and Angel thought for a moment how right it looked for her to be holding his son. She said, "Yes?"  
  
"Do you have any more suckers for me?" Buffy laughed slightly and caught Angel's shaking head, and thought about how much she had missed him even as she understood the unspoken message.  
  
"No. Besides, didn't you just have ice cream?"  
  
"Yeah, but it's not a sucker."  
  
Buffy hefted the boy slightly and said, "Sorry, you already had a treat, and I can't give you another without your Daddy's permission." Connor whined in response to that knowing that his father wasn't going to give him another treat until at least after dinner.   
  
Spike and Buffy spent the rest of the half-hour break explaining to the others about how the whole 'book thing' had come about. Then they spent the rest of the afternoon developing carpal tunnel syndrome while fending of the advances of mildly loony fans.  
  
Buffy and Angel both wondered quietly if the other had noticed how much they were staring.  
  
*****************  
  
While Buffy and Spike hurried back to Sunnydale to deal with a brand new crisis provoked solely by Dawn and her thrice-bedamned geranium, the A-Team confronted Darla about her role in the books. She confirmed what Spike had said, then promised retribution since both he and Buffy had assured her that no one would figure out the books were even close to non-fiction. Later Angel caught Darla alone in the foyer and pulled her aside.  
  
He glared at Darla, "I can't believe you were using our conversations as fodder for writing material! What I told you was to be kept confidential."  
  
"Of course the fact that you never told the subject of those conversations what you told me has had her doubting that you ever loved her in the first place," Darla snarled back. The direction of the attack was so unexpected that Angel withdrew into himself and left the room.  
  
Darla immediately calmed from her previous rage and exchanged looks with Wesley who had been entering the room just as Darla returned fire. He glanced sadly after the departing warrior and said, "It's just a pity that he can't be with her. He does love her so much."  
  
"It's true," she replied, "The real pity is that there isn't a way to bind his soul properly."   
  
At that Wesley looked rather startled and said, "What?"  
  
"Well," Darla said meditatively, "I mean you must have looked into it and found it's impossible, I can't seen any other reason why you aren't researching it night and day." She shrugged, "More's the pity." Then the vampiress headed upstairs to spend some time with her son.  
  
Wesley just stood frozen on the spot, "Yes," he murmured, "It's a pity." Then he hurried off to begin a search through his books on a brand new topic.  
  
*****************  
  
Buffy was invited out to Angel Investigations about a week later for dinner and to spend time with Connor. Since the discovery of the book, Darla had prevailed upon Angel to let Buffy spend time with their son, Gunn had prevailed upon Cordelia to tell him if what was in those books was really true, Fred had prevailed upon Spike for autographed copies for her parents, and Connor had presided over the madness with the calm only found in a three-year-old surrounded by panicking adults.  
  
Wesley had been barricaded in his office for a week and the only person who had been able to lure him out had been Spike. That had been due to being the only one to tell the ex-watcher that he didn't get to eat if he didn't come out. Everyone harangued Spike for threatening Wes with starvation. Spike just shrugged and said, "It got him out didn't it?"  
  
They had all settled at the table and were waiting impatiently for Wesley to join them when he arrived carrying a large book, four candles, some water, some salt, and a triumphant expression. "I found it! Darla, I can't begin to thank you enough for the idea."  
  
Her face clearly said, *Did I do something?*  
  
"If you'll just sit still a moment Angel," Wesley sprinkled the water and salt into two circles around Angel, placed the four candles forming a square around him, then read a couple passages from the book. When he finished, a wind swirled around the room four times, then blew out the candles, and Wesley said, "There. I can't believe no one thought of this. Angel your soul is bound."  
  
As the room erupted into a babble of voices demanding to know what Wesley had done, why it hadn't been thought of sooner, and what was he talking about that had to do with Angel's soul, Buffy and Angel just stared at each other. Suddenly the pair leapt to their feet and sprinted out of the room. Unmindful of the young child looking after his father and 'aunt' Cordelia said, "Boy, they're in a hurry to get to the se-mmmph!" she finished as Darla put her hand over the brunette's mouth.  
  
And that's exactly what they did.  
  
FIN 


End file.
